Mother turning into a skeleton
And the eyes of the child sunken deep into.
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The inextinguishable lamp
Which but the AtmanJust like the diya,An earthenware, oily and wickedWill go burning.The indivisible human soul,A unit of light,A small lampIt will go burningFor long,Which but will not extinguish,Burn for ever, burn for ever.
Chapter I: Adil jussawalla As A Poet,
Chapter III: The Theme of Exile, Loss, Alienation And Bewilderment,Chapter IV: Poetic Impact, Echoes And Parodies,Chapter V: ConclusionLet us try our thesis on the missing manOf Indian English poetryPrivately personal,Weaving the myths of modernity,Hollow man and his meaningless livingDotted by insane urbanity,Leading to where?A Parsi poetOf Bombay and its seascapes,The seas, ports and harboursAnd sailing…
A rajanigandha stick
By the photograph.Tear drops welling into the eyesAnd falling from,Trickling down the cheeksAnd I going.Bye,Good bye, bye!
The poet as a bird-watcher and bird-watching as poetry,
As poetry will cease to remain poetryIf the birds go depletingAnd greenery of the wildsAnd blueness of the sunny hills.Without bird-watching, one cannot be a poetAnd the bird-watcher is a poet,Try to watch at least for to be poet,See them with a poetical heartFor to be a painter of life and the world around,Animate or…
Combined with classical spirit
Of study,To the nomenclature ofRestraint and rigorous discipline,Tougher diction and seasoningOf word and life,Scholasticism and pedantrySeconded by a medievalism of some sort.
Why is Radha fair and why am I somewhat dark? ,
But what Mother Yasoda to say?What it to say about he colours of love?How one gets coloured in?Who says,You are dark,You my son,How can it be? ,They just saying to tease you,Mother Yasoda said it to child Krishna.